Forever Valentine
by niaiserie
Summary: 5th Story - Paid - He thought that he was paid to lay his life down for her. Of course, she didn't think so.
1. Rumble the Ramble: Intro

Forever Valentine   
Introduction Notes:  
  
***Why the title?**  
1) Love stories! ^_^ This is a collection of short stories that I've written when I'm in my sap mood. Some of them are romance; some are angst. ::ducks tomatoes:: 2) Valentine's Day is the sole day of the year that I've come to love and loathe at the same time. So it's kind of my mini-memorial to that "special day".  
  
***Clincher lines? What the buhjeezers?**  
Ever listened to a song where there's 3 lines that just gets to you? Doesn't matter if the song is an absolute favorite or not... It's *those* lines that matter!!! These stories are influenced by the Clincher lines, which can always be found at the very beginning of the story. Yes, they're credited to their respective artists.  
  
***So they're songfics...**  
No sirree! Although there are some authors who have an incredible talent with writing stories that revolve around a song, I'm incapable of writing a songfic. I feel that it limits the story to just one mood and... well... I don't like confinement.  
  
***Yay! We get to roll around and wallow in HxR-centric stories!**  
Eh...Not necessarily. It depends. Some of the songs go with them, and some songs go with Duo and Hilde. Or maybe other couples... you know?  
  
***Anything else?**  
Randomly updated, mostly AU... Hmm. I think I babbled long enough. OH! Suggestions are welcome, too. It's nice to take breaks from writing chapter fics. ::directs a glare at Tabloid::   
  
Oh, and just to throw in a bit of humor. From a cynic's point of view:  
**Valentine's Day** (val*en*tinez dae) n. -- A day when you have dreams of a candlelight dinner, diamonds, and romance, but consider yourself damn lucky to get a card. ~~**Amen! ::bows in homage::**   
  



	2. Wednesday Mornings

Forever Valentine: Wednesday Mornings  
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine. Never will be mine. But all I have to do is dream...  
Notes: Yes, wrote this when the Valentine's bug bit me mercilessly. I was trying to go for something... different. Setting has a personal significance and a sad story, but hey! I'm trying to make it happy! XD  
Clincher line: "Won't you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new/ I don't know who you are but I... I'm with you." – I'm With You, Avril Lavigne  
  
    AP Calculus: pages 209-210 #1-17 odd. Also review the derivatives of inverse functions.
    AP English: analyze and discuss a character from Othello; minimum of 2 1/2 pages or a minimum of 360 words. NO DOUBLE-SPACE!
    AP Chemistry: review for lanthanoid test. Pick 5 lanthanoids and summarize their origins for essay portion.
  
  
    The other assignments started to swim on the page.
    "ARGH!" Her planner flew across the air and landed precisely in front of the librarian's desk.
    The librarian looked up from her romance novel furiously. "Shh! Silence is the absolute rule in this library, young lady!"
    The girl nodded, beyond caring, as she walked to retrieve her planner. She could feel the searing glare of the woman on her back, which seemed to burn a hole through her shirt. The librarian always picked on her whenever she was there. 'Miserable woman,' she said to herself bitterly. She looked at the scattered papers on the table. Hopeless. Five hours' worth of homework is ridiculous. Like the school board would listen to her, anyway, if she filed a formal complaint. 'Grin and bear it. And just do it.' Steeling herself, she glanced at her papers one more time.
    Her fingers gripped her hair and she bit her lips at the same time to stop herself from screaming.
  
  
    He walked in, scowling. The scowl was a set expression on his face, anyway. His ID was positioned to slide through the identification system when he heard a soft sigh. Perfect eyebrows connected temporarily as he looked up, disturbed when he discovered that the librarian was the source of the sound. He adjusted his one-strapped backpack to a more comfortable position, and took a deep breath after he saw the green light. They should really replace this poor excuse of a librarian...
    "Back again?" the woman asked sweetly. Her voice sounded like a scratchy violin. He was tempted to give her his last cough drop, but decided against it. Some things, as his physics teacher told his class once, are beyond science and technology's reach. He gave a barely discernable nod. "You're welcome here anytime, you know. But that obnoxious girl is here again, too."
    His head slowly turned to look at the corner back table. He knew where to look. Always. Precisely at ten o'clock of Wednesday mornings, she was there, buried in her work. Today was no different; he could see the books and paper material from his distance. It wasn't like the librarian was discreet about her disdain towards the girl, either. Every time he was there, he could hear the woman, hollering at the girl like Agatha Hannigan from Annie. The girl who sat so quietly at the corner back table.
    Not only was the librarian oblivious, but single-minded, too. Didn't she realize that the only time he goes there is also on Wednesdays at ten in the morning?
    It has gone on for almost three months now. Somehow, somewhere, he would find the courage to at least find out her name. Maybe today, he'll be able to walk to the bookshelves closest to her, where he can glance at her books or papers. Her name must be on them in some manner...
  
  
    The variables in her paper didn't make sense to her anymore. Didn't she solve this set a few minutes ago? She buried her face on her unused arm and moaned softly. The numbers on her calculator were just a bunch of math lingo. There's no sense in these formulas when the person who's solving them was dead tired. The finger that she used to press the calculator buttons lifted and then suspended in midair. Which least common denominator for the complex fraction was she supposed to use?
    At this time, she was busy deciding whether or not self-mutilation was considered a semi-suicide attempt. Could she be imprisoned for that?
    The rustling sound of a windbreaker jacket. Her head turned and she saw, a few paces but fairly distant from where she sat, the guy with the untamable hair. A random thought managed to stray into her overloaded brain: 'He needs the hair relaxer treatment.' She noticed that today, he was closer to her than he ever had been. The girl looked at the section of the bookshelf the boy was at.
    Technology. He must be a nerd. One fine nerd.
    'Damn...'
    Complex fractions! The words flashed across her mind's eye in neon pink lights. She took one last glance at the boy and smiled. Her attention was immediately turned to the assignment in front of her, but not without allowing one last thought.
    She regretted that he'll never know that she smiled at him that day.
  
  
    He turned to look at her after getting a feeling that someone was watching him. A part of him said that it was her, and the other part stated the feeling as paranoia. Maybe the librarian was getting to him in a deeper way than he thought conceivable. As usual, the pessimist in him proved the optimist wrong, seeing that she was engrossed in her work. She looked kind of cute today, her long hair done in a huge bun and one cheek squashed against her palm, where she rested it. 'Her expression should be more like that.'
    His feet moved him six paces closer to her.
    Casually, he glanced at her things. Her backpack lay haphazardly on the table, containing only notebooks, a large pencil pouch, and binders; the materials of a dedicated student. It gave him the impression that she was a practical girl, bringing only things that she needed and not the useless "necessities" that he found in all of his ex-girlfriends' bags. That impressed him, but he still didn't find what he was looking for.
    He was silently surprised when she jumped slightly, startled out of her concentration. She looked at her silver timepiece and began the tedious process of cleaning up. Was it eleven thirty already?! He knew that she always left at that time. 'Wait! I still didn't get your name!' If he were to be honest, he was aware that he was making things difficult for himself. After all, going up to someone and asking for their name should be a breeze, right? But there was something about her that awed and somewhat intimidated him. Whatever it was, he didn't have the heart to find out.
    Then it happened. The forces of gravity worked in his favor and one of her binder papers bent backwards, hanging over the edge of her book. At last, he saw her name, written in impossibly neat print.
    Relena
    He didn't catch her last name; at that point, however, he just didn't care. He got her name. He finally had a name for that girl and he didn't have to say "her" or "she" to refer to Relena. It felt weird for the time being, but he can get used to it. He wondered how her name would feel on his tongue.     His nose caught a whiff of a jasmine scent and his hand shot out to instinctively grab the source of the smell. It didn't take long for him to realize that he grabbed—
    "Relena."
    She simply nodded her affirmative and continued looking at him curiously.
    "Your name is Relena." Her silence seemed to be an intentional hint that he was blabbing. She waited patiently for him to gather coherent thoughts. "Your next class..."
    "It's at one." Relena refrained herself from taking her hairbrush out of her bag as she looked at him. "Why?"
    Mustering what was left of his reserved courage, he lifted his head up a little more to see her clearly. Should he ask her? Living a life intrigued with a person can lead to obsession and, ultimately, insanity. Insanity, from there, starts a whole new cycle that could end violently. 'You're thinking too far ahead, bro...' He breathed to clear his mind. "Coffee. Have coffee with me."
    His confidence fascinated her; he was telling her to go, not asking her, as if expecting that she would accept his offer. The color of his eyes took her breath away. One corner of Relena's mouth subtly tilted upwards. "My mama told me never to go places with a person whose name I do not know."
    "Heero." At his reply, she noticed another thing about him: his eyes were extremely expressive. What his face and his voice seemed to lack, his eyes made up for. That moment, they were pleading for her to go.
    "Well, Heero..." Her cautious words and tone led Relena to look at the straps of her backpack, a silent reminder that she needed to see the math tutor for help. Then she looked at Heero and his blue eyes. Internal conflicts really do suck.
    'Grin and bear it. And just do it.'
    Relena smiled. "Yes. I will. Where will we be going?"
    Heero sighed of relief, though it passed on as an exhale. "Somewhere else, but not in the campus center. The coffee there tastes like socks." 
    With blatant disregard for the absolute rule of silence, Relena laughed. Then again, the librarian was too immersed in her novel to have heard the sound.


	3. Through the Lens

Through the Lens  
Notes: One-shots are easier to write than chapters. ::glares at Tabloid::  
Disclaimer: _I wanted to buy the whole thing and revise it, but the creators accused me of wanting the series only to get Heero and Relena to conceive 77 children. As if I'D DO THAT!!! The nerve... ::blinks innocently:: Then they said that I didn't have the money to buy the rights, which is true, so I still don't own Gundam Wing._  
Clincher song: "I fell in love with the girl in the picture/ That I used to keep/ Carried her 'round in the back of my pocket/ She was always with me... The girl in the Life magazine..." - Girl in the Life Magazine, Boys II Men  
  


"Move your head to this angle. Stay right there..." The lightings flashed and he looked up from his camera. He moved to switch his focus lenses. "Lighter make-up, Pierre. Clients won't be pleased." Satisfied with Pierre's soft "oui", the photographer left the set temporarily to retrieve new film.

The model sat still as a flurry of staff members at the photo shoot moved to get her ready for the next round. Her eyes were doing what her body was not: moving around, looking and darting to give her a better feel for the studio. "Okay, smack your lips together now," Pierre told her, his heavy French accent almost overriding the English words. She felt the whisper of silk against her skin and her arms were lifted by two assistants to put the white material on. "Ah! _Magnifique_! The robe compliments your beauty!"

She smiled softly. "Thank you, Pierre."

The crowd around her cleared when the photographer came back. A comfortable hush came over the set and once again, the model and the photographer were left alone. His eyes took her figure in; after all these years, seeing her was still like a breath of fresh air. "Breathtaking, Relena. You never cease to amaze me."

She allowed his words to wash over her. Any compliment from this man was like a sonnet written for her. "I aim to please," she said. "You should know that by now, Heero. We've been working together for a while."

"I was sort of expecting that you lost weight, with a busier schedule and all." He loaded the camera with his film. "Okay, we're set. Do your thing."

"What?" Relena asked, dumfounded. "Am I fat? Will it make the pictures look bad?" She lifted her legs and swung it over, positioning herself.

'_Far from it..._' He never replied, lest his mouth betray his thoughts. "You're fine." '_In more ways than one.._' His finger pushed the button and the shutter's sound echoed in the room. "Bony models are hard to work with. Their ovulation imbalance makes them so cranky."

She laughed. "Don't claim to be so pleasant all the time, Heero."

He looked at her from above the rim of the camera, his eyes focusing on her. "Have I been too hard on you lately?" he asked, concerned.

The deep, smooth sound of his voice left goosebumps on her body. She rubbed her legs together. "No," Relena breathed. "Not at all." She sighed to herself as they resumed the take. Everytime she worked with Heero, there's always something there to remind her that their relationship will stay professional. But it was hard, especially when it seemed like he's the only photographer who saw her at her best. Relena, by standards, was a good model. But she's even better when Heero handled her shoots.

As she looked at the camera, she wondered how Heero saw her through the lens.

"Give me cheese, Relena," Heero said, giving the old clichè a humorous twist. As much of a humorous twist as he could, anyway. He was also referring to the humongous sum these pictures of hers would bring to his studio, and the additional boost to his already respectable reputation.

But that was _just it_. With her, the money didn't matter; it was only a side dish to the main course. And when the flashes illuminated her porcelain and flawless skin, Heero was again reminded that it was only being in Relena's presence that really mattered...

She chuckled when the double meaning of his request registered and give she did, expressing her clandestine passion for him through his camera. The camera that would always serve as the traitorous bridge that joined them and then separated them. A bridge that she would willingly keep on crossing as long as he was on the other side.

'_Only for you, Heero. Always for you..._'

  
  


As her assistants cleaned up, Relena walked around to warm her cool body. She didn't anticipate a good samaritan to drape his coat around her shoulders to speed up the process. "Thank you," she said, expressing her gratitude as she turned her head to look at the generous person.

Only to have her nose brush against Heero's nose.

"You're welcome." His hands came up to stroke her back, smoothing the material and just to feel her under his palms. "It wasn't really a good idea to use that flimsy thing, but they insisted. I wouldn't put you up to that."

Relena kept her eyes on his. '_Protective... He's being protective..._' His earthy smell assaulted her, accompanied by the scent of the mint he was chewing on. "You know, I was thinking," she started to say. "Are we friends? I mean, we work together and we have a good working relationship. But in all these years I've worked with you, I haven't really gotten to know you."

"Must you?" Heero asked. "Maybe some things are just better off the way they are." He hoped that the tone of his voice will not betray what he really thought.

She closed her eyes, expecting something like that from him. Her heart constricted and she fought hard to keep her tears at bay. "I suppose so." Relena made a move to take the coat off, but he stopped her. "Heero..."

"Keep it. Then give it back to me the next time we meet." He closed his eyes when she pulled away from him and kept them closed even when she departed. Heero only opened his eyes when everyone left him in the set and he made his way to his office, taking his bag of films along the way.

"Good shoot today, sir!" an employee complimented him. With only an affirmative grunt, he continued walking until he reached the last door to his left. Heero took a deep breath and opened it.

It was a room awashed in soft white light. Various pictures of Relena were taped on all four walls. No one knew about the décor of his personal office, but it was the only way that Heero could be really close to her. She was alive in his photos. Even on sheets of glossy paper, she still filled him with life. He walked over to one of her close-ups and he followed the shape of her perfect lips with his finger; then the shape of her beautiful, beautiful eyes with his gaze. "No chance," he whispered. Heero tore his gaze away from Relena's picture and headed for the dark room.

----------------------- 


	4. The Other Side

The Other Side  
_Disclaimer_:Still not mine. If Papa Luciano's is real, its use in this fic is purely coincidental.  
_Notes_: OOC, AU. :) Third installment in the short story collection, and since it's been a while since I uploaded anything here, just a short reminder: **each chapter is a **_different_** ****story. See "Rumble the Ramble" aka Ch. 1 for more 411. And no, I'm not sure when I'm going to write a "slappy sappin' happy" fic because unrequited stuff just... gets to me.  Formatting's weird...  One minute I get "Body Text First" and then the body goes into "Normal, Arial, blah blah".  It's actually kind of cool looking, though.  Hope it's not something I changed when I was tweaking with defaults.  Death threats are creepy, but appreciated.  Boss, I am deeply indebted to you.  Will 5,038,499 thank you's do?  And the question is directed to the readers of course.  ^_^  Wait, please make that 5,038,500 thank you's.**

'Cause I miss you / Body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away / And I breathe you / Into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today / 'Cause I love you... ~ If You're Not the One, Daniel Bedingfield

"Peek and see!"

Hilde graced her boyfriend a sideways glance. "Duo, I have no time to admire your random observations right now. Besides," she smiled like a cheshire cat and eyed the scrumptious sandwich in front of her, "mom's sandwich is practically begging me to eat it..." She took the item in her hands and dove. "Mmmm..."

Imagine her incredulity when Duo took the liberty to snatch the sandwich out of her grasp, but without the intention to eat it. He placed the sandwich back on the baggy, which left Hilde praying that the darn sea gulls would not make a feast out of it. Then she thought about what took place just mere moments ago and gasped. "Duo! You didn't want to eat the sandwich? That's mom's specialty! You remember the..."

"Chopped lamb meat, ranch dressing, lots of shredded lettuce, fresh tomatoes, etcetera. I know, I know," he told her, urgency evident in his voice. His hands were flailing to point at the hedge beside them. "But just take a peek and see."

At first, it didn't really concern Hilde. It didn't really take much to get Duo excited; add a pair of Playboy twins with what random thing he was excited about and he would have a nosebleed. She took her dear, sweet time to turn and look at the object of interest.

She sighed. "Duo... Baby... All I see are leaves and old gum idiots have stuck in the leaves." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait... Oh! I think I see it." Her pretty face scrunched up in a frown, followed by a wrinkling of her nose. "Eew... that's nasty."

He nodded empathically.

"How could anyone be careless enough to not properly dispose of a condom wrapper? It's disgusting! The trash can is right over there."

"No, not that," Duo whined. "It's either you get up on the table to see over this obstructive hedge or you can sit on my lap while I part the leaves for you." He grinned. "I'd say go for the latter."

"I'd say not," Hilde told him, nodding her head. "How about you part the leaves for me instead. I don't need to get up nor do I need to sit on some person's lap."

"Ouch." He placed a hand over his heart, where he pretended the words struck him like a piercing arrow. She stuck her tongue out at him and he grumpily parted the leaves for her, not really minding the dry stems that poked at his arms. "As if seeing what I saw wasn't bad enough."

When she saw the other side, Hilde gaped; her lunch was promptly forgotten.

The last person in their group of three finally came. Not that they were waiting for this person or anything; the couple was, after all, too distracted by what they found. "Hey guys, remember what happened to Peeping Tom?"

"Eep!" Duo and Hilde's respective sounds of surprise were uncannily on the same pitch. It was as if they were suddenly synchronized, from when they turned around and until giant red blotches appeared on their cheeks. "Hi, Relena," they greeted, still synchronized. They looked at each other and Hilde pulled on his braid hard. "Stop copying me!" she scolded, then became worried after Duo's expression of pain. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Relena coughed at the scene that unfolded before her as Hilde doted unnecessarily on Duo, who was exploiting the tender concern his girlfriend was bestowing on him. "That was interesting," she commented, gracefully sitting in front of them. "So what was that?"

"What was what?" Hilde asked. She tried to control her fingers from shaking when she took her sandwich once more. Damn, even her jaw was shaking when she took a bite. "Didn't you see me pull on Duo's braid?"

The other girl nodded. "I know. I saw that. But what I meant was, what were you guys looking at?"

"The leaves?" Duo countered sheepishly. "You know... nature appreciation?"

Hilde nodded a tad too enthusiastically and Relena hummed under her breath. "Okay. Just wondering what that look on your faces is for." She nudged her head in their direction. "You know... the 'cat ate the canary' look."

"Umm..." Hilde turned to her boyfriend for some support, who just shrugged. She decided that payback was in order for failing to help her with this situation. "Well... Duo decided to be weird again. You know, his randomness? Is that a word?" She shook her head. "Anyway, whatever... You catch my drift, though. But yeah. His weirdness struck again and he decided to show me this condom wrapper under the hedge."

"Ah," Relena said softly, buying the alibi. The trio ate in silence, but she noticed the uncharacteristic loss of appetite her companions seemed to have. "Duo? Hilde? Aren't you guys going to eat?" The couple stammered excuses until all of their words became jumbled up on one another. She laughed gently. "You guys, calm down! Don't know why you don't want to eat your sandwich, Hilde, but the cafeteria's having a special today. Lasagna, I think."

"From Papa Luciano's?" Duo's expression turned wistful when he asked the question.

She nodded. Without warning, Duo stood up and pulled Hilde with him. They walked away from the table swiftly, and when they were sure that they were not in Relena's peripheral vision any longer, she pulled her arm from his grip. "This is for backing me up earlier," Hilde said sarcastically and punched him on his arm.

Laughing, Duo grabbed her and held her close. She was stubbornly resistant for a few moments until she finally gave in and held him too. "When you peeked and you saw, I wasn't seeing things, right?" he asked.

"No, you weren't," she replied, her voice muffled in his shirt. "I saw what you saw." Hilde slightly tilted her head up, her eyes rolling up to look at him. "I didn't want to believe it."

With her voice still muffled, it took a while for Duo to decipher what she said. He scratched his head when he understood her words. "Well... we both thought different, I guess. But we didn't see different." He kissed her forehead. "Did we?" he asked, echoing his question once more just to make sure, just to assure himself...

Hilde was reluctant to oblige. "Yes..." She gave him a short kiss on his lips and ducked down again to find comfort in his shirt. "We didn't see different."

If it weren't for the temptation that was Papa Luciano's lasagna and the lull of shared sympathy for their dear friend, Duo and Hilde would have realized by then that it was all part of Relena's quickly improvised plan: to get them out of the area so she can take a peek at what the hedge seemed to be protecting.

Protecting her or protecting whatever it was on the other side of it, she didn't know.

Only one way to find out. After her initial and instinctive hesitation, Relena parted the browns and the greens of the hedge. The twigs snapped and the stems dug in her smooth skin, but determination fueled her to get her arms through the plant and see what was on the other side. When she saw the sunlight peek through the small hole she was finally able to create, Relena grinned triumphantly and spread her arms wider.

Through the bigger hole her widespread arms created, she looked. Relena saw past the other students eating lunch, past the procrastinators finishing their homework for their next class, and the lone couple sitting together, just straight ahead, was what she focused her eyes on.

Heero. Sitting with Catherine Bloom, one of the few sincerely nice girls in the school and the writer of the popular "Dear Heart" column in the school paper.

As if to add insult to the injury, they were sitting in the direction facing her. And if they raised their heads and looked straight, they would easily see her. They weren't close enough to Relena for her to actually hear their conversation; in addition to that, the chattering and giggling of their fellow students would drown out their words anyway.

But they were close enough for Relena to read their lips. Her experience with reading lips started in junior high, when she met Hilde, a spunky German-American girl with whom she shared many of her interests; even though the girl was more extroverted than she was. They were elated when they found out that they were in all of each other's classes. However, they were always seated at the opposite ends of the room. Gossip that couldn't wait to be told during break or lunch were penned and passed to each other.

Good idea, at first. The people in their class didn't care to be used as a "communication network" for her and Hilde. Until they started getting caught.

That's when reading lips came in. Both girls were confident that they were at least on par with those who have hearing disabilities. The rest, as they said, was history.

All of Relena's senses were attuned to that couple. She smelled a whiff of someone's cup noodle. She heard the pounding of her heart above all other lunchtime noises. She could still taste a hint of her own lunch on her tongue. She felt the twigs and the branches of the hedge, clawing into her skin like gnarly fingernails. Her fingertips touched the warmth of the sun's rays on the other side of the hedge; the warmth she wanted to absorb to make the coldness in her heart go away. She couldn't avert her eyes nor could she move away, frozen on the spot...

And she was left with no other option but to watch.

"Please say you love me."

Catherine was looking right at Heero as she spoke.

Relena felt the twigs digging in her skin more acutely as she watched. She didn't hear her heart anymore; she thought it stopped beating the moment Catherine said 'please'. With surprisingly clear eyes, Relena swiveled them to look at the one who captured her heart since seeing him at their freshman orientation..

The one who then broke it a month and a half into their current school year.

Experiencing that pain made her realize that junior year was not going to be all that great as she expected. "It's me, it's still me, please say it's me," Relena whispered as she refamiliarized herself with his handsome features.

Was she really _that dispensable?_

Then her body was hers to command once more.  Silently and slowly, Relena pulled her arms back, touching the nicks and small cuts she received from the hedge. She didn't see Heero's response.  Their side of the lunch area was deserted; it was the privacy of the space that made them choose the area. The other group that shared the space with them wasn't there, which relieved her. The short trek to the nearest restroom was made quietly, but the pain made it go on forever.

Not long after, a group of giggling girls came in the restroom.  "Relena!" one of them exclaimed.  The rest gasped.  "What happened?"

She stood by the sink, calmly cleaning the wounds on one arm, and then the other.  "It's nothing," she said softly.  Her hands were extra gentle on a particularly long gash.  "It hurts.  I had no idea it would be this _painful..."_

They nodded sympathetically.  The poor girls thought that Relena was referring to the simultaneous stinging sensations on her arms.

++++++---------++++++

For every coin made in this planet, it has two sides.

For every given equilateral triangle, it has two equal sides.

For every hedge that acted as a separator, it separates exactly two sides.

For every story told, there are at least two sides.

"Please say you love me."

Heero frowned at Catherine. "That was really schmaltzy."

"Hey bub, you're talking to the writer with the most popular love advice column on campus, okay?" Catherine retorted.  "Well, the only advice column we have..."  she added as an afterthought.  She placed a finger on his shoulder and gave him a nice, hard shove. "And besides, we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.  So stop complaining!  As a matter of fact, I should include you in my feature."

"What feature?"

"I'm doing a feature on jerks, boys _and_ girls, this month.  At least 30 couples broke up over the summer, so it's the perfect time to write it up.  Of course, you'll remain anonymous, but you'll know when I'm talking about you," she replied, not the least bit intimidated at the glare he sent her way. Catherine puffed her cheeks and gave a long exhale. "Tell me why you broke up with Relena again?"

He looked away. "I thought that junior year would be a lot to deal with..."

"Oh, thanks for another contribution to the infamous 'Bullshit Answers' list. So stop right there before I hit you with my shoes. Forget that they're my favorite pair, too." Her hands rubbed her temples agitatedly. "Get it straight, okay? You didn't do her a favor, and you didn't do yourself a favor." She looked at Heero and, taking pity on his downcast demeanor, smiled. "Hey, that's why we're practicing, right? Because you're going to show her that you're worthy of this second chance and then when you give her your dark, dangerous, and macho look while saying that 'schmaltzy' line, she won't be able to resist you!" Her fingers started snapping and her head started bobbing to a rhythm in her head. "Reunited and it feeeels sooo gooooood..."

"Hey, stop that!" Heero whispered harshly, grasping her wrists and pulling them down. Catherine laughed at him. "I get the point. Just don't sing anymore, okay? I think you'll do better as a knife-thrower at the circus." He let her wrists go and looked off to the side as a fond memory resurfaced. He considered sharing it with her, but then decided against it.  And he wondered what she may be doing at that very moment, on the other side of that tall, tall hedge.

Catherine wondered at his sudden silence, but her intuition allayed her. "You miss her."

_Complete understatement. I need_ her. She's the sole thing that wakes me up in the morning where every brand of coffee has failed. She's the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thought when I sleep. The first face in my dreams and the last face when dreaming ends...__

That sole memory that surfaced triggered many others until his mind began to swim in them.

Heero didn't look at her.

Catherine sighed and smiled encouragingly. "Come on, Heero. Let's start from the beginning, okay? You don't have to pretend I'm Relena because when you're faced with the real thing, you'll forget everything that you want to say. I guess we should just work on coherence then... so when you're saying things, they don't come out the wrong way, you know?"


	5. The Salute: The Boy Drama Sessions

The Salute: The Boy Drama Sessions  
**Notes**: The return. Sort of. Mention Tabloid and I won't know what you're talking about. ::innocent face:: I debated whether or not I should work on my essay, but inspiration won over the need to do schoolwork, seeing that it rarely strikes me nowadays. This piece is **unedited**, fresh, and hot off the press. It's written in a weird style, but I was playing with words. I finally understand why poets edit poems. This is hardly a poem, though **it is an experiment**. If anyone catches grammar mistakes, I'm sorry in advance. I also used stream of consciousness for this story, which is why for the first time ever, I don't want to edit this story. On grounds of artistic license, perhaps? Some ebonics also present here. Ramble done.

I know where you hide / Alone in your car / Know all of the things that make you who you are / I know that goodbye means nothing at all / Comes back and begs me to catch her everytime she falls ~ She Will Be Loved, Maroon 5

To the greatest best friend in the world, we salute you, Heero Yuy.

For putting up the perfect façade as she cried on your shoulder again, after telling you the story of how things ended with _him_. For exercising self-control as your hands moved over her back in a calming manner... or is supposedly a calming manner for her, when in actuality, just having your hands on her makes your blood rush and drives you mad. For being patient, knowing that her sobs will eventually cease, even though it meant letting her cry for hours.

For all these qualities, we salute you.  
For being a coward, we abhor you.

You know that if you just told her, she wouldn't be in tears because of a heartbreak. You'd take care of her heart. No analogies in the world will be able to compare the way you'd take care of her. If she cries, it is because you were tickling her so much, or because you finally propose to her in the way she imagined the man of her dreams would. If she cries, it is because the wedding was wonderful and that after the reception, she would no longer be a virgin. She's sentimental like that, and you know it. And you also know that it caused you to fall even harder because she treasures every single thing that she holds close to her heart. It implies that in a way, she treasures you, too.

But friendship isn't enough, is it? You want her. You want her heart. You want to possess her mind and take over, so she'll never cease to think of you. You want to get under her skin and seep into her soul, her very essence, because there, she has a huge capacity for loving, caring, and being devoted that makes you feel safe and comfortable. She offers security; her arms around your waist made you realize that. She offers stability in the topsy-turvy world that you live in whenever she's not around. Even her hair reminds you of pure light, the light that the hopeful say is found at the end of every tunnel.

You want everything she has to offer because she has everything you need.

You cower, Yuy. You cower at the thought of losing her. You know the risks involved by revealing your secret; the clichés, and every other thing that could go wrong by confessing to her. The way she aches, the pain manifesting itself as wracking sobs. All it takes is the twist of your imagination and in your head, she's not crying over the newest ex-boyfriend; instead, she's crying because you told her you love her and she can't bring herself to say the feeling is not reciprocated.

That's why you're the best friend. The topnotch homeboy. The main "G-dawg". Because you're all too familiar with the pain she goes through boy after boy after boy. To you they're all boys, because you're the only one man enough to love her, and the pain you carry is born out of such intense love.

And if she wasn't clinging around your waist, you would flinch and curse yourself for the hypocrisy in your behavior towards her. _Such a damned hypocrite_, you'd say. _The lowliest hypocrite out of them all_...

We laugh at you now, Heero Yuy. We laugh at you for reasons you know not.  
At least, not yet.

Her tears stop flowing hours later and you escort her to the door, kissing her on the cheek as you tell her you love her and that you're just a phone call away. She shows no surprise; it is, after all, what you do every single time before she leaves after the boy drama session. True to the ritual, you ask her if you can find out who this boy was. Her part in the ritual is shaking her head, patting your cheek and saying, "No, you don't need to know." Then she walks away while you watch her retreating figure, finally dropping Heero the steadfast friend in exchange for Heero the man in love; the one whose eyes expressed raw, unabashed love and desire for her. Only for her, always for her.

We laugh at you because you think that the ritual ends with her decline to reveal the newest ex's name. It doesn't end there at all. If you only take the time to peek out your window instead of grabbing a cold beer, which you do everytime after her departure, you will see her walking slowly, talking on her cellphone with another friend.

"_Hi, Hilde..."  
"Hey, Relena! Sorry for not answering the phone right away. What's up?"  
"I'm just leaving Heero's place..."  
"Another boy drama session? Oh my god, you... you're impossible, you know that? Maybe if you would just stop looking for look-a-likes and have the real thing. I mean, he's---"  
"No! No! Telling him is not an option. It's never an option, and it will never be an option."  
"Relena, for him to put up with your sessions for so long should tell you something. Have you at least told him about the ex?"  
"No... I mean, Philip did come close to looking like him, right?"  
"It doesn't matter because it's not him. You know that. You said you were going to tell him so you can get the whole thing over with--"  
"I know... Maybe next time... I'll be able to tell him. I just... god, I'm so scared."  
"He might be, too, Relena. You can't move on without knowing."  
"It's exactly that. I don't want to move on. That's why I can't tell him."_

So begins a whole new cycle of the boy drama sessions.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." - Friedrich Nietzsche


	6. Paid

Paid  
  
**Notes:** Oh, the shippiness strikes again. Blame my CSI S/G addiction. I just finished reading excellent drabble on their relationship and I felt compelled to do one for my foremost addiction. S/G shippers have a new member in their "stake the CSI writers" mob. With that said... "Tabloid"? Yes. My first 100-word drabble? F-ck yes. My first "published" piece that actually sort of stays in the GWing timeline? I weep with joy.

Boss Mel: About the other piece... Heee... :sheepish grin: I'll put it up here! I promise! One day... -.-;;  
  
Hope everyone's having a great summer. Peace.  
  
And I honestly truly believe / You and me are written in the stars / I live my whole life through / To giving thanks to you – Make Me Whole, Amel Larrieux

* * *

Chaos broke out after the first shot.  
  
He was paid to protect her.  
  
Second shot. Their eyes met and he ran. Ran like Michael Johnson did in the Olympics' 400 meter event. He dove and she moved. They crumpled on the stage.  
  
He opened his eyes and in his arms, he held her. His gut told him something wasn't right.  
  
Why was _he_ behind _her_?  
  
There was a growing red spot on her white blouse.  
  
Anguished eyes looked at her and she nodded weakly, smiling. "I know you're supposed to," she whispered. "But no one said I would let you."


End file.
